


Old Friend

by sunaddicted



Series: Tumblr Prompts 2018 [23]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Bitching, Drinking, Friendship, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Other, Temporary Character Death, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-27 00:13:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15674115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunaddicted/pseuds/sunaddicted
Summary: "Kinky" Oswald chuckled "I'll drink to that"





	Old Friend

**Author's Note:**

> The lovely @cobblepotcrimefamily asked for "he's dead, again" + whaterver ship came to my mind - I went with a friendship and implied relationships, I hope it's okay

_Old Friend_

 Oswald didn't even glance away from the spectacle unfolding on the ground floor of the Lounge as he heard his bodyguards pat someone down, admiring the glittering swirling of the evening gowns and the silky gleaming of suits tailored to conceal rather than exalt - it was a sight as decadent as the crystal tables weighted down by bottles of freezing fizzy champagne and fresh oysters shining wetly like organs nestled in the ice, their pale flesh put even in starker relief by the grapples of caviar spilling from tins branded in Russian and chocolate truffles wrapped up in edible gold leaves.

Everything was outrageously expensive, obscene if one thought about the endemic poverty that plagued neighbourhoods like the Narrows.

Oswald didn't particularly care: he could afford it and, most importantly, the clientele he catered to could afford it. Besides, he did his part: he regularly donated money to Lee's underground clinic and while he did it because he himself and the rest of the Rogues went to her whenever they were hurt, nobody needed to know.

"That's not your usual drink of choice"

Oswald briefly glanced at the startlingly green grasshopper in his hand, wrinkling his nose at its tossic-waste shade "No, it's not" he admitted, taking a short sip.

Mint.

Disgusting.

He didn't really know why he tortured himself that way.

"It's Ed's favourite, isn't it?" Jim hummed, settling next to him.

That statement didn't particularly surprise Oswald: if Gotham's finest couldn't even guess Edward's favourite drink after decades - especially considering that the Riddler didn't make a mystery out of the fact that he drank it only because it was green and it paired well with his outfit - Oswald would have been a little more than worried for the state of the GCPD "Indeed"

"Where is he?" Jim inquired, looking around; he almost expected him to emerge from Oswald's office - maybe straightening his tie after a rushed intimate encounter with the Penguin or with his eyes burning after going over the Lounge books - or suddenly appear out of the shadows of the stage on the raised dais, ready to entertain and terrify the crowd with his riddles.

Not that Jim had ever been particularly entertained by the riddles - he had always just found them annoying, especially when they had worked together and he had needed a speedy answer, the weight of lives in peril straining his shoulders.

"He's dead, again" Oswald didn't even bother to try to hide the irritation in his voice: as soon as Hugo Strange brought his lover back to life, Oswald was going to relegate him to the couch and Edward would have to grovel and sweat if he wanted to be allowed back in their bed - he understood that death barely was a concern any longer in Gotham but Edward didn't have to make an hobby out of it, did he?

Jim heaved a mental sigh of relief: the Riddler wouldn't be a problem for a while, at least for a couple of weeks "I trust that he'll be with us again shortly"

Oswald turned around to face his unexpected guest and leant back against the banister, shifting his body weight on his good leg, face muscles steeled to try and avoid showing the twinge of pain that had just ran up his spine.

He had no time to waste in chit-chat "What can I do for you, Jim?"

Jim shrugged "Can't I visit an old friend?"

"We both know you don't really do social calls"

"True"

Oswald waited for Jim to elaborate but the other man just accepted the flûte of champagne that was offered him and took an healthy sip: it was serious, then; Jim almost never accepted anything to drink a the Lounge, always claiming that he technically was working "What is it? Information?"

Him shrugged "No"

"Just drowning your sorrows?"

A twitch of a muscle.

Tell-telling.

Damning.

"Who is it?"

"Harvey"

Oswald arched an eyebrow - not a totally unexpected development but Jim admitting to it was kind of... momentous "Trouble in paradise?"

"I could ask you the same"

He chuckled and tossed back the last of his grasshopper, a barely disguised noise of disgust trapped in his throat and fingers already snapping in a silent request for something more congenial to his palette - a glass of thick red wine, syrupy down his throat "Oh, believe me, Edward is in for a whipping"

"So is Harvey" Jim grinned, mischievous "Literally"

"Kinky" Oswald chuckled "I'll drink to that"

 


End file.
